


On Compassion's Wings

by ladylapislazuli



Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Blood buddies to friends to lovers, Get Together, M/M, Post second-worst ending, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-10 20:08:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20533865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladylapislazuli/pseuds/ladylapislazuli
Summary: Sean is a foolish, wicked man.He paces his room at the night asylum, unable to keep still as his mind whirls and whirls.He has feelings for Doctor Reid.Feelings.- - -When Doctor Reid returns to London, Sean Hampton ministers to him as he would any lost soul. He never meant to get attached.





	On Compassion's Wings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [greygerbil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/greygerbil/gifts).

> “There is love and compassion in your heart. You only need to give it wings." - Sean Hampton to Doctor Jonathan Reid

Doctor Jonathan Reid is, as ever, a mystery.

The last Sean heard, the good doctor had left London two months ago. At the time, Sean thought it was a pity. Few doctors were willing to plunge into the underworld as Doctor Reid did. The doctor was a good man, and a truly compassionate scientist – a rare breed. He tended the sick with equal care and dedication whether high-born or low, whether they could pay him or not.

Sean is not surprised Doctor Reid left, for such is the way with men of action. There is a fire in Doctor Reid’s blood, a drive and willpower Sean can only admire rather than fully comprehend. Doctor Reid is not the type to settle in one place, in one role. He is always striving, always fighting, always looking for something more.

It is very much a surprise to Sean, then, when Doctor Reid comes back.

Even more of a surprise to turn a corner on one of his rounds of the Docks and find Doctor Reid _ right there,_ looming over him with a look of such singular intensity that Sean almost leaps out of his skin.

“Mr Hampton, good to see you,” the doctor says, his polite greeting decidedly at odds with the suddenness of his appearance. He speaks like a man at an afternoon tea party in the park, rather than one who just sprung out unexpectedly at one of his acquaintances. In a dark alleyway. In the dead of night. Like… well, like a vampire.

Perhaps it is not so surprising after all.

“Good evening, Doctor Reid,” Sean says, as though he did not just get the fright of his life.

“I am sorry to disturb you,” Doctor Reid says, “but I wondered if I might make use of you. There is a patient at the Pembroke in need of a man of faith, as quickly as possible.”

Sean blinks. A moment ago he was minding his own business, searching for lost souls in need of a roof over their heads for the night. Now, faced with a man who he thought had left the continent, it occurs to him… Doctor Reid is taller than he remembers. (It is not a particularly helpful revelation.)

A soul in need, though. That Sean understands, even if the doctor’s sudden reappearance is something of a surprise. God brings people together in the most unexpected ways, sometimes.

“Of course," Sean says. "Lead the way, doctor.”

They make their way to the Pembroke mostly in silence. Sean makes a few inquiries, but his attempts at conversation are all answered with the utmost politeness and as little information as possible.

“I didn’t know you’d returned, doctor.”

“I’m only recently back in London.”

“You’ve gone back to work at the Pembroke?”

“I have.”

“How were your travels?”

“As comfortable as can be expected.”

The doctor is not usually so reticent – though to be fair, usually it is Doctor Reid asking the questions - but Sean allows him his silence. The doctor has done him a great service, after all, and Sean will not pry him for information he does not want to give. He must know all sorts of priests and holy folk. But it is Sean to whom he has entrusted this task, and that is not something Sean takes lightly.

Sean watches him out of the corner of his eye, though. Doctor Reid walks tall and strong as ever, a man who owns every space he steps into, but there is something different about him. A heaviness to his shoulders, a weight to his steps that was not there before. Though he is always pale, somehow Doctor Reid seems even paler - perhaps even a little ill. He is impeccably dressed and groomed, but grooming alone cannot hide it, not from Sean. Something happened to Doctor Reid. Something that has dimmed the light from his eyes.

They reach the Pembroke. Sean is ushered into one of its many corridors, to the bed of a man barely clinging to life. He touches the cross hanging from his neck, kneels by the man’s bedside, and offers what comfort he can.

\- - -

In his room at the night shelter, the one private space he has carved out for himself, Sean sets his fingers to mending a tear in his coat. It is familiar work. In the rare moment of stillness, Sean’s mind wanders back to the other night.

Doctor Reid was not himself. Sean knows it with a certainty that can only be the Lord’s guiding hand. Something happened to Doctor Reid while he was away, some change, whether physical or mental. There was nothing obviously _ wrong _ with Doctor Reid – the doctor was as immaculately put-together as ever, and his manners were the perfect degree of polite (if distant) – but God's guidance has never led Sean astray.

Sean is well-versed in the signs of human misery. He is not one to shy from offering aid, even where that aid might be unwelcome. Many of his flock shouted at him, when they first met. Cursed him, even threw things. But with persistence and the loving guidance of the Lord, even the roughest of them eventually allowed him close enough to tend their wounds, both physical and spiritual, and offer a hot meal and a roof over their heads without question or judgment.

Doctor Reid is not like his usual clientele. Highly-educated, wealthy, upper-class.

Not once in the history of his life has _ difference _ stopped Sean from trying to help.

He must at least check on the man. It is entirely possible Doctor Reid will neither welcome nor need his help, but Sean will have no rest until he checks. He knows all too well how easy it is for people to walk past suffering and not see it. Knows all too well what it is like to need help, and receive none.

So he sets down his mending for another time and takes the walk over to Pembroke. Further than his usual rounds, but well worth the effort.

When he arrives, he expects to find Doctor Reid tending patients. The young nurse, however, directs him straight up to Doctor Reid’s office. Sean knocks, but there is no reply. 

Sean has a suspicion, though. When he tries the handle, the door swings open.

Doctor Reid is hunched over his desk, books splayed out in haphazard order in front of him, a vial in one hand. He does not look his usual calm, implacable self. He squeezes the vial so tight Sean expects it to shatter in his hands.

“Doctor Reid,” he says.

The doctor’s head jerks around, and Sean’s hand wavers on the door handle as he is hit with the memory of the _ power _ of this man. A man who compelled Sean to kneel and drink his blood, with nothing but sheer force of will. Who watches him now with the eyes of a predator, and Sean is frozen in place like a rabbit in its tracks.

The doctor looks away, and the feeling passes. Doctor Reid hunches back over his work desk, his posture as defensive as any wounded man Sean has ever seen. All that indomitable strength withering, leaving him a shell.

“Who are you here for?” Doctor Reid asks. His voice is uncharacteristically hoarse. Sean must not reply quick enough for the doctor’s liking, for he speaks again, clipped, “Is all well at the night shelter? Who is it that needs my help?”

Any fear of the doctor vanishes like a puff of smoke. Even in the state Doctor Reid is in – and it _ is _ a state, Sean can practically feel the tension radiating out of the doctor’s very being – Doctor Reid offers to help others.

Warmth floods Sean’s chest. He steps into the doctor’s office, shutting the door behind him. “I came to see you, doctor.”

Doctor Reid straightens up. This time, when he turns, his eyes are calm, hands steady. His expression is sombre, but then, it always is. The doctor puts on a good façade of normality.

Not good enough.

“Are you experiencing an unexpected increase in your hunger?” Doctor Reid says, brisk and business-like.

“No, doctor.”

“It has been a while since I checked up on you…” Doctor Reid looks very much like he is reproaching himself for it. “How are you managing the transition? Any further changes?”

“No, doctor. I don’t need medical attention. I just came to see you.”

“Oh?” says Doctor Reid, raising an eyebrow. For a moment, though, Sean sees his façade flicker. Perhaps unsure what to do with himself without his doctor persona to hide behind.

He needs work, Sean realises. A lot of work. Sean’s instincts – instincts well-trained by the most brutal and desolate streets London has to offer – are telling him that Doctor Reid is a man on the edge. A man too proud to ask for help.

Sean touches the cross around his neck. Feels the love and guidance of the Lord spreading its warmth. This… this, Sean knows how to do.

“You seem tired, doctor. I wondered if you might like to take a walk.” Sean says, casual and unassuming. The doctor’s office has that stale, over-lived quality that indicates Doctor Reid is not getting out enough. Taking a chance, he adds, “As a friend.”

It is a gamble with any wounded man, particularly one as proud as Doctor Reid. The wounded so often seek to isolate themselves.

“I am occupied with my research,” Reid says. Then, looking as though he has swallowed a lemon even as his manners compel him to reply, “Perhaps another time.”

Sean is patient. He has done this enough times to know when to push, and when not to.

“I look forward to it,” he says, and leaves Doctor Reid to his brooding.

\- - -

It takes Sean a few additional visits to coax Doctor Reid out of hiding.

He makes his way over to the Pembroke Hospital whenever he can. It is off his usual track, less poverty-stricken than the docks, but the guiding hand of the Lord still sends him to those in need.

One evening he comes across an elderly widow, whose troubles are soothed by nothing more complicated than a kind ear.

Another evening he finds a young woman on the run with a familiar look of terrified desperation on her face. She is with child, fears disownment, as so many others have feared before her. When he extends a hand, free of judgment, she cries into his coat, and his own eyes prick in response to her pain. (He has often been mocked for his tendency for weeping, but the Lord gifted him with compassion. Sean feels no shame over it.) She agrees to go to the shelter, and he makes a note to encourage her in the direction of Miss Lottie Paxton, whose positivity and kindness never fail to cheer expectant mothers.

The evening after that sees Sean wrapping a man’s arm around his shoulders and helping him to the Pembroke as, caught in the throes of infection, the man loses his strength. Sean can barely get a word of sense out of him, only enough to learn that his name is Mr Macintyre, and he is a fisherman.

Not for the first time, Sean marvels at the Lord’s wisdom. In seeking to help Doctor Reid, Sean has been guided to other souls in need of assistance.

One of the younger doctors takes Sean’s Mr Macintyre for treatment. Sean will come back to see him again, of course, but that leaves him free to head straight to Doctor Reid. Invite him once again to take a walk.

The doctor is still hiding in his office. When he sees who is at the door, he sighs.

“Oh, very well,” he says, and collects his coat. Sean does not even attempt to hide his smile.

They walk down by the water. Both of them can see perfectly well at night, and there is something soothing about the sound of lapping water. The doctor is not chatty, but Sean does not need him to be. Sean points out the beauty of the stars in the night sky, the shine of the moon, the cool breeze that touches their faces as they walk. Reminding Doctor Reid that there is a world outside his office. A beautiful, chaotic, terrifying gift of a world. Anchoring them both in the beauty of God’s earthly creations.

“Does it bother you,” the doctor interrupts, “that I do not share your faith?”

Sean looks at him. Doctor Reid’s tone is sharp, but there is something fractured underneath, something broken. Doctor Reid probably thinks he hides it well.

“I have faith enough for both of us,” Sean says easily. “It doesn’t bother me. Besides, I have seen enough of you to know you are a man of faith in your own right.”

“I am a man of science,” Doctor Reid says.

“A man who uses science to minister to the sick and the needy,” Sean says.

He can see on Doctor Reid’s face that he doesn’t like that interpretation.

“I’m a doctor. I’ve taken the Hippocratic oath – that has nothing to do with faith.”

“You are a man of great deeds. I’ve known many doctors, Doctor Reid, and none of them have helped my flock as you have. Most learned men turn their backs on the uneducated – but not you.”

Doctor Reid’s face does something complicated. “What is the purpose of your visits, Mr Hampton? Do you need more of my blood?”

“No, doctor. I neither need nor want it.”

“Then why are wasting your time with me? On these… social visits? Do you not have your flock to tend to? All those lost souls clamouring for your care?”

There is something unpleasant in Doctor Reid’s tone, something on the edge of provocative. Sean will not oblige him with a fight, if that is what he wants. But the time has clearly come to push. 

“I do not shirk my duties to those who need me,” Sean says. Then, before Doctor Reid can try a new way of needling him, “May I ask you a question, doctor?”

“Very well.”

“Do _ you _ feel lost?”

Doctor Reid stops dead. For a moment his eyes flash red, and an anger appears that Sean has never seen on those composed features. Anger… and despair. Frightened creatures often lash out before they will allow a gentle hand to touch them. Sean has seen what Doctor Reid can do, but he is not afraid.

The temper disappears quickly, in any case. Doctor Reid sags and looks away from Sean, visibly trying to compose himself.

“If I am…” the doctor begins. Stops, struggling to find the words. Sean waits. “If I am… lost, as you put it, I was lost a long time ago. There is nothing you can do for me. I am a vampire, my soul is immortal – I require no spiritual care.” He straightens up, draws his face into an expression of stern aristocracy, both too learned and too well-bred for the likes of Sean. Trying to intimidate Sean away. “You should return to your flock. The people of the Docks need you.”

_ So do you._ The doctor does not know Sean well, not yet. If he did, he would know that Sean always goes where he is needed the most. No matter what Doctor Reid thinks of his soul, he is one of God’s creatures like any other. Worthy of God’s love whether he sees it or not.

None of this he says to the doctor. Instead, he says, “We can all do with a friend, can we not, Doctor Reid?”

Sean smiles up at him. _ Up _ – the doctor is a man of imposing stature, it is little wonder he expects to be able to frighten Sean away. Intense eyes and intimidating height conceal a soul more fragile, perhaps, than even its owner knows.

Something flashes through the doctor’s eyes. The corners of his mouth tighten, and his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat.

“Yes,” he finally concedes, his voice hoarse. “I suppose we can.”

\- - -

It quickly becomes apparent that Reid’s main strategy of self-isolation involves picking arguments.

He tries it every time Sean comes to visit him. Finding some apparent flaw in an idle statement of Sean’s and jabbing at it. The doctor would never be so gauche as to sneer openly at Sean, but he needles him. Is sharp, and hostile, as much as his upbringing will allow.

“People are neither virtuous nor compassionate. We are inherently selfish beings, wired to ensure our own survival at the cost of all else. Perhaps your faith in religion blinds you to scientific reality,” the doctor tells him one day. “If you had received a proper education, perhaps you would not be so… pure-minded.”

It is a roundabout way of calling him both naïve and stupid, but Sean takes it in his stride. He is used to foul-mouthed vulgarity being flung at him from those not yet willing to accept his aid. It would take far more than snide remarks to drive him away from the needy.

Sean makes progress, though. A smile here, a confidence there. A gradual loosening of tension whenever the doctor opens the door and finds Sean’s face smiling at him.

It takes a few weeks before Doctor Reid trusts Sean enough to reach a tipping point in his company. But inevitably, it happens.

As is so often the case with a personal crisis, nothing in particular seems to trigger it. The doctor is holed up in his office when Sean comes to visit. This time his claim to busyness is legitimate, but he assures Sean he will be finished soon, and Sean is welcome to wait.

Sean idly paces the doctor’s office, taking it all in. It is full of medical books and paraphernalia, little to suggest the personality of the man residing in it. There is, however, a merry-looking pot plant, and the thought of serious, sombre Doctor Reid tending it brings a smile to Sean’s face.

The smile fades quickly. The doctor lets out a noise of frustration, and with no further warning stands and hurls the glass vial he is working with at a wall. It shatters, spreading liquid everywhere, but the doctor is not done. He picks up a beaker and hurls that too.

“Doctor Reid!” Sean shouts – a mistake, he would not normally raise his voice, it is just the sheer surprise of it that gets him – and Reid whirls to look at him. His eyes glow red. His lips are curled back, revealing his fangs, and his usually handsome face is contorted into something ugly.

“What’s the use of it?” Reid roars. “Of – science, faith, any of it!”

“Doctor Reid, please–” Sean says, but Reid isn’t listening.

He picks up another vial, staring at it. There is no mistaking the contents of this one – it is filled with blood.

“There is nothing I can do, nothing I _ could _ have done – nothing!”

Reid’s hands are shaking, but this vial he does not throw. He sets it back in its stand, careful. Then with a shout of rage he sweeps the rest of the glass off his desk – vials, beakers, things Sean does not recognise – all smashing to the floor in a shower of glass.

“Doctor Reid,” Sean says. He moves towards him, his shoes crunching glass. Sets a hand on Reid’s shoulder.

Reid whips around with such force that Sean jerks back on instinct. He is not afraid, but by the look on Reid’s face Sean can tell Reid _ thinks _ he is. Even angry, Reid is a decent man – his face crumples with shame.

“I – forgive me,” the doctor says. His head hangs, and Sean has never seen him look so defeated.

“Nothing to forgive, doctor.” Sean steps forward, putting his hand back on Reid’s shoulder. And when Reid does not object, Sean steps closer still and brings Reid into a loose embrace.

He expects Reid to pull away after a few moments. Indeed, Reid begins to move back, and Sean loosens his grip, letting him. Then Reid seems to think better of it. He surges forward, wrapping his own arms around Sean, clasping him tight.

For the first time Sean is reminded that Reid is a soldier as well as a doctor. He embraces like a soldier, one arm around Sean’s shoulders and the other around his back, a hold that would be neutral if not for the desperation underneath. The doctor holds him so tightly against his chest that Sean is pressed up almost to his tiptoes.

He runs a soothing hand down the doctor’s back. And though the doctor does not cry, Sean can feel the way he trembles.

(Some small, unhelpful part of his brain notes that Doctor Reid smells nice, but Sean pushes that thought aside.)

When they part, Reid’s face is the picture of composure again. He cannot quite look Sean in the eye. “Forgive me my loss of temper,” he says, and bends to start picking up the larger fragments of glass. “It was most uncouth.”

Trust Reid to turn emotional suffering into an example of _ bad manners. _Sean can see the lines of exhaustion written on his face, as well as the shame. But Reid has bottled his emotions too long, and now has gone from smashing his belongings in a fit of despair to as cold and distance as an iceberg. Sean bites back a sigh. 

“I am a simple man, doctor. I’m more used to broken bottles than broken beakers, but glass is the same everywhere.”

They tidy up together in silence. It is not comfortable on Reid’s end, but Sean senses he is not ready to talk again, not yet.

So Sean talks instead. He chatters idly about the latest updates at the night asylum, and the inhabitants of the Docks. He tells Reid of babies born, of weddings, of celebrations. The people who live in Sean’s corner of the world have so little, but they are still people. A few nights ago, they all danced and sang and laughed with Sean around a bonfire, simply because they are _ alive_. Because they feel, and dream, and live.

He can feel Reid relaxing again. When Sean runs out of things to say, Reid looks exhausted – really, truly exhausted – but in such a way that suggests he might finally get some sleep. He has released some of the burden on his soul, shared it, and if there is one thing Sean knows it is that people were not designed to suffer alone.

He leaves Reid with a fond touch to Reid’s shoulder, and walks back to the night shelter with an unexpected feeling of warmth lingering in his chest.

\- - -

Reid is prickly next time Sean comes to visit, which is hardly a surprise. He insists that they go for a walk, which Sean has no objection to, though Reid stares at him as though expecting one.

As usual, he finds no fight in Sean, and has no choice but to turn his energy into shoving his arms into his coat with unnecessary aggression.

Reid leads the way. They walk mostly in silence, but Sean can read the purpose in every one of Reid’s long strides. Sean’s pace is hurried in an effort to keep up, but he does not complain. Simply allows Reid to lead him all the way through the graveyard, until they come to stand in front of a particular grave.

_ Mary Reid._

Sean’s heart catches in his throat. No wonder the doctor is antsy tonight. No wonder he walks with such purpose. He needs to share his grief, but cannot find the words. So he shows Sean his pain instead of telling him. 

There is tension in the doctor’s shoulders as he waits for Sean to speak.

“I’m sorry for your loss, doctor,” Sean says. Simple and to the point. “Grief is a terrible burden to bear.”

Reid looks, if anything, frustrated, as though Sean has missed some silent point. “I killed her.”

A soft breeze blows through the graveyard. It rustles the leaves at their feet.

The doctor stares intently into Sean’s face, searching for some sign of shock, or condemnation. He forgets, perhaps, the life that Sean leads. The terrible confessions he has heard, the sins he has uncovered.

Sean is not quick to judge. He feels Reid’s pain and regret too keenly. Reaches out, unable to help himself, to touch Reid’s arm.

Reid startles. Looks down at his hand, as though it is a foreign thing.

“I am sorry,” Sean says again.

“_Sorry_?” Reid is all but spluttering. “I _killed_ _her_, Sean, my own flesh and blood. I am an unholy thing, born of the blood of hate. I could not even set foot in a church to grieve her. Rather than die, I am cursed to watch the deaths of all whom I love.”

The words pour out of him as though long held back. Such raw grief. Sean wonders just how many people Reid has lost, why he feels so alone. Why he has brought Sean here solely to confess that he is a killer, as though Sean did not already know.

“The Lord will receive her soul, doctor,” Sean says, “and the Lord is kind. Your sister is at peace.” He can feel – _ something _radiating out of Reid. He does not react. Just crouches before the grave and offers a moment of silent prayer. Then he brushes a fallen leaf off the headstone. Touches his cross. Straightens up.

“Here I was expecting a full sermon from you, Mr Hampton,” Reid says. Low, and slightly dangerous.

Sean meets his eyes. He knows all too well that Doctor Reid is an intimidating man, far larger and more powerful than Sean in every respect. Reid has already subjugated Sean in forcing him to drink his blood – a necessary act, a saving one, and one of the only things Reid has never needled Sean about. Sean knows Reid is intimidating, but right now he knows it only in an intellectual way. Sean would not be where he is today if he were the type to be frightened away.

He considers his words carefully. He wants so badly to help Reid – but Reid is not a man who welcomes softness. Pointed arguments… those are Reid’s element.

“What did you hope in bringing me here, Doctor Reid? To grieve your sister, or to condemn you?”

Something twists in Reid’s face, and Sean realises that Reid himself does not know. Does not know why he brought Sean here, or what he wants from him. He is just lost, and scrabbling for any last threads of connection. Unused to reaching out, and unsure how to do it.

Sean wants to reach for him, to embrace him again. But every part of the doctor’s body language is defensive, as though his entire being is an open wound.

Sean is Sean, and he cannot be pointed for long. “I can give you a sermon, if it would bring you comfort. But I don’t think you are ready to listen. Not to prayers, anyway.”

“They’re going to have to start calling you the Sad Saint of Pembroke, Mr Hampton,” Reid says, and the words are barbed, verging on mocking.

“I’ve been called worse.” If Reid wants to hurt Sean, he grossly misses the mark. Sean is all too familiar with the methods through which people keep others at a distance. All he sees in this moment is Reid’s pain.

“Yes, I suppose you have,” Reid says, voice pitched low as though he is speaking to himself.

“You are not a wicked man, doctor,” Sean tells him.

Reid flinches. Still will not look at Sean, but when he speaks, it is as though Sean has pulled a confession out of him. “I have failed. I have failed my mother, my sister, Elisabeth…”

The doctor cannot continue, but he has said enough.

“The Lord does not demand we succeed, only that we try. Did you try, doctor?”

Reid lowers his head. Speaks, in little more than a hoarse whisper, “Yes.”

\- - -

Sean is growing increasingly concerned over Lottie Paxton.

It is a particularly cold night, and even the roaring fire cannot keep the chill at bay. Sean has piled every spare blanket he has on Lottie’s cot, but it does no good. Her fingers are icy, and she shakes with fever.

“It’s only a cold,” she insists, but her eyes are dazed, and she cannot sleep, and she will take neither food nor water.

“You must at least have something to drink,” Sean tells her, struggling to keep his voice calm. If she gets any sicker he will have to take her to the Pembroke, but how is he to transport her at this time of night? Strong as his new condition has made him, it is a long way to carry someone.

She shakes her head, beads of sweat visible on her forehead.

Just as he is contemplating where he might find someone willing to help him, help arrives in the form of Reid.

Reid stands in the doorway of the shelter, impeccably dressed as always, and Sean can see the moment where Reid switches from a sad, tired man into _ Doctor _ Reid, the renowned and brilliant surgeon. He sweeps forward, and even Sean scatters out of his way.

He takes control of the situation. Speaks to Lottie in that deep, calm voice of his, then checks her pulse, her temperature, her eyes. Questions her, soothing but efficient, and his mere presence is so comforting that Sean can feel the tension draining from his shoulders. Miss Lottie is in good hands – the very best, in fact. Not for the first time, Sean sends a grateful prayer heavenward for Doctor Reid’s timely appearance in London.

When Reid decides that Lottie needs to go to hospital, Sean’s concerns over getting her there are quickly laid to rest. Reid organises it as if by magic. Lottie is whisked away, packed into a real –_ real _ – ambulance. Sean can barely believe his eyes. Doctor Reid is the first medical professional to enter the East Docks in a long time, let alone taking a resident out of them.

“She’ll be all right,” Reid tells him. Perhaps misreading the stunned look that Sean is sure he is wearing: “She is very dehydrated, and I want her under medical supervision in case her condition worsens, but she should make a full recovery.”

“Dehydrated?” Sean says. He cannot quite make sense of it. “Not dying?”

Reid looks at him with surprise. “Certainly not, Sean. You need not distress yourself.”

“I… forgive me, doctor.” Sean collects himself. Tries to explain. “Most doctors wouldn’t send one of my people to the hospital even if they’d been stabbed.”

An exaggeration, perhaps, but not by much. Reid’s lips thin.

“It is a doctor’s duty to help _ everyone_,” he says. “I am sorry you have had dealings with those who have forgotten it.”

“Lucky for us, we have you,” Sean says. “Thank you, doctor.” And again, when that is not enough, “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Reid says. “It is fortunate that I came by tonight. I was visiting Mrs Fishburn, and I thought I would stop in to see you.”

If Sean were still human, he thinks his heart would have burst out of his chest. As it is, he stares up at Reid, speechless. This man. This beautiful, wounded, good-hearted man. As damaged and lost as any of Sean’s flock, but with so much compassion and _ light _ in his heart. All but consumed by his grief, yet he still seeks to help those in need.

Reid may not think himself one of God’s creatures, but Sean knows otherwise. Reid is one of the most beautiful and miraculous of all.

“Come now, Mr Hampton, calm yourself,” Reid says. He takes Sean by the arm, leading him gently to sit on a nearby chair. Peering into Sean’s face in concern. “Miss Paxton will be all right, I assure you.”

“You are a gift from God, Doctor Reid. What would we ever do without you?” Sean says. Reid’s face shutters, but Sean cannot help it, either his earnestness or his gratitude. He reaches out, grips one of Reid’s hands in both of his. “No one has ever helped me before.” 

Reid, ever the analyst, searches Sean’s eyes. Sean knows his voice is little more than a whisper, too vulnerable and open by far. He has always been this way. But soon it is his turn to be surprised, as Reid’s spare hand comes to cover his.

“Everything will be all right, Sean,” he says, in a murmur that spreads warmth right to the tips of Sean’s toes.

Reid withdraws his hands as he straightens up, but it is not a distancing manoeuvre. He looks down at Sean, and for the first time in a long time Sean sees the hint of a smile playing at Reid’s lips, a flicker of warmth in his cool eyes.

There are still dark rings under his eyes. Still that haunted look. But it is not quite so heavy, or so all-consuming.

“I am headed back to the Pembroke now. Come and see her for yourself, if you like.”

There is no question about it. Sean nods, and they make the walk together.

\- - -

Something changes, after that.

Sean has known for a long time that the doctor is accustomed to being the one doing the helping. Rankles at the idea of _ being _ helped, no matter how mildly Sean approaches him. He allows pride to blind him – but then, all of God’s creatures have their faults, Sean included.

Things are different now. Somehow, through helping Lottie Paxton, they have evened the scales.

Sean continues to visit Reid regularly, whenever he is certain that the needs of his flock have been met. Reid is standoffish whenever Sean tries to step outside their respective roles – that of a doctor and a man of God – but each time it gets easier. Each time, he lets his mask of professionalism slip a little further.

Sean’s patience is paying off.

This evening, Sean plants himself at a table in the doctor’s office.

“Cards?” the doctor says as Sean pulls a set out of his pocket and begins to shuffle. Reid looks up from his microscope to watch him, which Sean takes as a sign of interest.

“I trust you know how to play poker,” Sean says.

“I did not take you for a gambling man, Sean.”

“No gambling required in a friendly game,” Sean tells him. “Besides, even Catholics can have fun, you know.”

That startles amusement out of the doctor – not a laugh, exactly, but an exhalation of breath. Sean deals the cards, chest warm with pleasure.

“You surprise me. Though I must warn you, I’ve been told I have a very good poker face.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Sean says. “Though I’ve been told the opposite of myself.”

The doctor makes that amused noise again, a rumbling sound that makes something in Sean’s stomach feel strange. Reid packs up his work with swift, well-practiced motions, rolling up his sleeves as he comes to sit at the table.

After cards, they play chess, and Reid trounces Sean three times before Sean manages to hold his own.

He still loses, of course, but he loses less dramatically than before.

Better still, he can see the cogs turning in the doctor’s clever mind as Sean challenges him. Reid’s face lights up when he is thinking. His eyes scan the board over and over, looking for the best strategy. He is completely absorbed by the game, so much that his hurts seem to fall away. He sits straighter, his hands moving pieces with an excitement Sean has never seen from him. His eyes, always intense, burn into Sean when he looks up at him, and the breath seems to still in Sean’s lungs.

It is an odd sensation. Gone as soon as the doctor looks away, moving one of his knights and putting Sean’s king into check once again. Sean does not know what to think of it, so he focuses on the board, ignoring the lingering strangeness in his chest.

Perhaps he is not very well tonight. In truth, though, he feels better than ever.

He loses – again – but Reid is in no hurry for him to leave. He graces Sean with the barest hint of a smile as he resets the board, and Sean’s chest goes funny again.

\- - -

They walk. They play games – Sean even manages to win a hand of blackjack once. They sit and talk in Reid’s office. Sometimes, Reid comes to him, and checks the health of those in the night asylum. They share stories, and memories, and lost dreams.

Sean tells Reid of his fleeting desire to be an actor during his teenage years that died the moment he actually stepped foot on a stage. Reid admits to Sean that for a brief moment in his childhood he too entertained a foolish aspiration – in his case, to be a lion tamer. Sean tells Reid of the orphanage – not of the bad things, but of the other children he was raised with. The stories they used to tell each other, whispered once all the lights were out. Reid tells Sean of his father and the puzzles he set him, the games he played with his sister.

It is different to anything Sean has ever known. Not what he was expecting when he decided to help Reid. They are, dare he say it, friends now. Reid even calls him ‘Sean’ almost all of the time.

Reid smiles more. Come to think of it, _ Sean _ smiles more. Every time he sees Reid, his heart leaps in his chest.

That, of course, is the beginning of Sean’s downfall.

It is on one of their walks of the city that Reid turns to Sean to say something. Sean does not recall what it is, some innocuous comment or observation.

All Sean sees is Reid’s sharp, handsome face, his intense, intelligent eyes, his strong, slightly crooked nose. He takes in the breadth of Reid’s shoulders, the raw physical strength hidden beneath gentleman’s attire. Reid’s formidable height, his brilliant mind, his compassionate heart.

And Sean’s own heart trembles. Breaks. Reforms anew, crying out, calling for –

Oh dear. Oh _ no_.

\- - -

Sean is a foolish, wicked man.

He paces his room at the night shelter, unable to keep still as his mind whirls and whirls.

He has feelings for Doctor Reid. _ Feelings_.

He has spent his whole life in devotion to God and his flock, he does not normally _ feel _ things like this. He loves his fellow man, with as much kindness and compassion as he has in him. But not… not in this way. He does not _ feel_, not like this. He is not supposed to. After everything that happened while he was growing up, Sean did not think himself capable of it.

That Reid is a man does not bother him. Sean has walked the streets long enough to see love take many forms under God. He has seen men love men, women love women, seen people grow and change and flourish under the nurturing influence of love. Love is one of the Lord’s greatest gifts.

Sean, however, is a shepherd with a sacred duty to his flock. He must be clear-headed and unbiased, treat them all with equal care under the eyes of God. He is a servant of the Lord, and it is his duty to pass on God’s teachings. He is not supposed to develop _feelings_.

He has been ministering to Reid as he would to any other lost soul, and now Sean has betrayed his most sacred trust. Sean barely resists the urge to throw himself to the ground in penance.

He paces his room in the night shelter, wringing his hands as his mind shrieks at him. An endless loop of _ not supposed to, didn’t mean to, not supposed to_.

When he finally calms, Sean slumps onto a chair and buries his face in his hands. It does not matter now what he meant to do – it is done. He has these feelings for Reid. And he has too many responsibilities to indulge in fits of self-loathing – he has to be practical about it.

He has to go on and pretend everything is normal. His flock needs him, Reid needs him. He cannot turn away from the man, simply because of his own unexpected feelings.

Sean can deal with this. In silence, in penitence. No one need ever know. He is well-versed in turning feeling into actions of goodness. He will simply… spread his love. Disperse it. Give himself over to the needy, and devote himself entirely to his work until the way he feels about Reid dissipates naturally.

He does not know what else to do.

\- - -

Of course, nothing in life is easy. For just as Sean feels differently about Reid, Reid feels differently about him. _ Trusts _ him, in a way he did not trust him before. Reveals his darkest secrets, just as Sean decides to conceal things from Reid.

Life can be cruel, sometimes.

The next time they meet, Sean thinks he is ready. He buries the flutter in his chest, throws himself into warmth, and kindness, and being exactly the same as he always is. Normal, nothing amiss. He does not expect Reid to open up all of a sudden. Not now.

That is exactly what happens.

They are in the graveyard, near Mary Reid’s grave. Sean sits on a bench, watching as Reid paces. He knows Reid well by now. Knows that Reid is on the verge of saying something, trying to find the way to do it. Sean waits.

Reid runs his fingers over his sister’s headstone, gloved against the chill. “Lady Ashbury is dead.”

Sean gapes at Reid. Of all the things he expected to hear, this… this was not one of them.

Reid does not wait for a reply. He resumes his pacing, like a caged tiger. “She and I… we had an understanding. An… _ attachment_. But she…”

Sean cannot breathe. His mind is whirling a thousand miles a minute. His chest practically explodes with conflicting emotions – shock, grief, jealousy, _ shame _ – but he is supposed to be ministering to Reid, supposed to act normally. Yet here Sean sits, wrestling with his own shameful feelings when Reid _ needs _ him.

He could not have picked a worse time to realise that he feels more for Reid than friendship. But there is nothing he can do now, to control himself or to change what grief Reid is in the process of revealing, and oh Sean is a fool, a _ fool_.

_ Stop_, he tells himself. _ Stop_.

He grips his cross. Says a silent prayer, and forces himself to calm down. Reid needs him. Reid is reaching out, and _ needs _ him. Never mind the timing, never mind Sean’s failings. He needs to listen, to be present, to fulfil his purpose in service to God. To help.

Reid does not know what Sean feels, which is a betrayal in and of itself. But Sean would betray him far worse by not honouring this moment.

By the time Sean collects himself, Reid is only just opening his mouth to speak again, hands clasped behind his back, pacing and pacing and pacing. “She died,” he says, “and I could not… I could not save her. I could not convince her to save herself. There is so much, Sean, so much I cannot explain to you. So much you do not understand…”

“You do not need to explain to me,” Sean says. His voice is hoarse, but steady, and for that he is grateful. He has himself under control, now. “Tell me only that which you wish to tell. I am listening.”

Reid nods, looking relieved, and Sean cannot help the shame that twinges inside him before he forces himself back to his task.

“I left London in search of her. Found her, finally, and there was so much I had to learn about her, and our condition. Her condition was… not the same as mine, but I could have found a cure for her. I _ know _ I could. I just… I just needed time.”

“You wanted to help her,” Sean says.

“I couldn’t.” The words are bitter, painful even to hear. “She wouldn’t let me.”

“People will choose their own path in life,” Sean says. “Sometimes they choose the wrong ones, no matter how hard we try to save them.”

“She threw herself into…” Reid says, but here, he cannot continue. Closes his eyes, standing before his sister’s grave as he grieves his lost love.

Sean is a wicked man. How could he ever allow his own foolish heart to distract him? Sean has been successful in winning Reid’s trust, but it is bittersweet. Because now, right after Sean has realised the full extent of his inappropriate emotions for Reid, Reid finally divulges his deepest grief.

He feels slightly ill with the deception of it. He will never do enough penance for this.

He stands. Comes to Reid’s side. “May she rest in peace.”

“Even now, I am searching for a cure. I have a vial of her blood in my office” – of course, that must be the one vial Reid did not smash – “but even now it is difficult. I could have done it, though. Just… with time.”

“You did not fail her,” Sean says. “You have not failed her. Sometimes we cannot save people from themselves. She was a good woman, with a kind heart. I am sorry for her passing – sorry too for your loss.”

Reid breathes, then, and it is like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. His face is sad, so desperately sad, but still he offers Sean the barest of smiles.

“Thank you, Sean,” he murmurs. “You are a great comfort to me.”

Sean nods, not trusting himself to speak. 

This time, it is Reid who reaches for him. Reid’s clasps his hand on Sean’s shoulder, just briefly, before it returns to his side. Has no idea what feelings that gesture sparks in Sean. He must not find out.

\- - -

Reid is too busy to see him for a few weeks after that, and Sean is guiltily grateful. It gives him an opportunity to get himself under control, and repent his selfish distraction during a pivotal moment in Reid’s spiritual healing.

Every night he prays for guidance. Every night he confesses his sins, and asks for the Lord’s wisdom. And every night he receives reminders of God’s purpose as he tends to those in the shelter. Doles out rations, and second-hand clothes, and murmurs God’s teachings to those who have lost their way.

He is a simple shepherd, serving God’s purpose with a clear mind and open heart. He cannot fall for one of his own flock.

Even with this in mind, confusion creeps up on him whenever he is unoccupied, bringing with it a slew of unwelcome questions. He has never felt anything like this before, so why now? Why so suddenly? Why did it creep up on him and explode at the most unfortunate of times? Why, now he has realised it, can he not simply bury it again and go about life as usual?

Sean finds no answers, but he finds peace in keeping his regular routine.

By the time Reid is able to see him again, Sean is as composed as he can be, and things go back to normal. Walks, games, talking. A simple, warm bond between them, that Sean will not sully with his inappropriate thoughts.

One night when they walk by the water, Reid touches Sean’s elbow and he almost bursts out of his skin. Stammers an excuse for his surprise and pulls his coat higher about his chin, as though it can shield his inappropriate thoughts from Reid.

Another night, when they are playing cards and Sean actually wins a hand, he whoops in victory and is treated to Reid’s soft, rumbling laugh. It is such a rare sound that Sean is so surprised he knocks half the deck onto the floor, and pretends not to notice Reid’s sharp eyes boring into his head as he hastens to collect them. When Reid bends to help, his hand brushes against Sean’s, and Sean is subtler, this time, when he pulls away.

Sometimes, Reid need only look at him with those striking blue eyes. Sharp, intelligent eyes that soften when they meet Sean’s, and Sean’s heart is in his throat as he forces himself to look away.

It is not the easiest rhythm, and Sean barely keeps his wits together with the unfamiliar maelstrom in his chest, but it is comfortable enough.

Reid finds ways to surprise him, though. When Sean arrives at his office one evening, Reid whisks him right back out again. “I thought I might visit my mother tonight,” he says. “It has been too long since I have seen her.”

Sean nods, the words _ another time _ on the tip of his tongue. A moment later, he realises he has misunderstood.

“Perhaps you would accompany me?” Reid says. “I would like to introduce you. I have told her much about you.” Reid looks down at him, stern features surprisingly soft, and refusal is the last thing on Sean’s mind.

The West End is not an area Sean frequents. He rarely troubles himself with material goods, and has never cared much for money, but he cannot help feeling shabby as he walks those immaculate streets. His coat is fraying, his boots old and scuffed. He is not ashamed of the simple life he leads, far from it, but it is hard not to feel… well, a little out of place.

The feeling only intensifies when they climb the steps to the Reid mansion. A butler opens the door, watching Sean with haughty eyes as he wipes his boots, and he is led into a sitting room where even one of the tea cosies is more expensive than anything he has ever owned.

Then he meets Mrs Reid, and the feeling of mismatch passes.

She totters into the room, barely registering it when Reid leans down to kiss her cheek.

“You must be the nice young man my Johnny has been telling me about,” she says. “You must know my Mary too – good girl, my Mary. Just yesterday she was telling me…” she talks on, and Reid helps her into an armchair, setting a cup of tea down beside her that goes unnoticed.

He exchanges a look with Sean over the top of her head, and the tension in Reid’s face relaxes when Sean sends him an encouraging smile. Mrs Reid is an old lady slowly losing her faculties, her reality a step away from everyone else’s – familiar territory for Sean, and nothing to be ashamed of or hidden away. He is just glad to see her so well taken care of, unlike some of the poor souls who find their way to the night shelter.

Mrs Reid requires little conversational input from him, but Sean listens intently nonetheless. She has moments of clarity, where her eyes hone in on his, where he sees perfect understanding of the world, before it fades again.

She is well loved, but Sean makes a silent prayer all the same. It never hurts.

“Avery tells me you’ve been doing some painting, Mother,” Reid says when she pauses in a story about Mary. Mary, decidedly deceased, but still living in Mrs Reid’s confused mind.

“Oh, yes – yes I have! I’ve been painting a portrait of your father. He won’t sit still for me of course, but I’m creating a good likeness. Do you like painting, dear?”

Her eyes are on Sean again.

“I am not talented with a brush, but I admire beauty in all its forms,” he tells her.

“What is it that you do, dear?”

“I manage a night shelter in the Docks, Mrs Reid.”

“That’s right – Mr Hampton. Jonathan’s holy man,” she says, patting Sean’s hand.

When they leave, Reid says, “I hoped to find her more lucid tonight. She has been asking to meet you, you know.”

“She is a sweet lady,” Sean says. “Thank you for introducing me. I would love to see her paintings some day.”

Reid looks, for a moment, as though Sean has surprised him. Sean is not sure why. Then a soft smile spreads across Reid’s face, and Sean has to look at his boots to remind himself what he is doing.

\- - -

When they get back to the Pembroke, Reid invites Sean into his office with a flick of his wrist. Takes Sean’s coat and lays it across the back of a chair.

“Thank you for coming with me tonight,” Reid says. “I am sorry I gave you such short notice. She has been asking to meet you.”

“Thank you for taking me,” Sean says. “She is a very interesting lady.”

“I confess, I was also… impatient,” Reid says.

Sean looks up at him, confused. The sentence makes no sense to him. And now they are back in Reid’s office, Reid looks antsy, though Sean cannot think why. “Impatient?”

Then he feels Reid’s hands come up to hold his shoulders. Can feel Reid’s eyes on his face, though Sean cannot muster the courage to look up. Instead his eyes are fixed on the point of Reid’s chin. He feels Reid’s hands stroke from his shoulders down to elbows, and cold hands though they are, they leave warmth in their wake.

“I meant to wait,” Reid says.

Then the doctor leans down and kisses him, and all thought flies from Sean’s mind. He is frozen in time, in the press of the doctor’s lips, the smell of his cologne, the feeling of the doctor’s hands holding him gently by the elbows.

Sean cannot move. Does not react.

Reid pulls back. Sean blinks up at him dazedly as Reid steps neatly away. His lips are twisted down.

“Forgive me,” Reid says. Takes another step away from Sean, eyes downcast.

Sean did not react, which Reid must take as a sign of rejection. But that is not… Sean just...

Sean does not know what to do, or what to say, or how to say it. “I…” is as far as he gets.

So he steps forward. Closes the distance between them again, wraps his arms around Reid’s middle, and presses his body against him. For a moment it is Reid’s turn to be frozen. Then he huffs out a breath, and Sean can feel tension draining from his shoulders as he wraps his arms around Sean in turn. Presses his cheek to the top of Sean’s head.

When Sean can finally speak again, the words that come out are, “I don’t understand.”

He does not mean to sound so small, so confused. So weak. He is a simple shepherd, but for reasons entirely unknown he has been given a chance with Doctor Reid, and he is already wasting it. Revealing his insecurities, and in doing so asking for more than Reid may be willing to give. Reid, who has seen him at his very worst, and saved him from himself. Reid, who knows his darkest secrets. Reid, the kind of man who conquers the world, where Sean is just happy knowing he could help people.

Sean is supposed to guide Reid, as he would any of his flock. Only… only that is just a part of their relationship, not all of it. Because while Sean guides Reid, Reid finds a way to guide him right back.

Reid goes still again, though he does not move away. “I thought we had an understanding, you and I. Unless I was mistaken in your feelings for me.”

“No,” Sean says in a rush, then feels very foolish. “I did not think… I did not realise...”

Reid does pull away this time, but only so that he can look at Sean’s face. “I do not take many people to meet my mother, Sean. Nor do I allow many people to touch me.”

“I… oh,” Sean says. It still makes no sense to him – how long has Reid reciprocated his feelings? How long has Reid known of Sean’s? _ When did this happen _ and why did Sean not notice?

“I thought you seemed stand-offish all of a sudden. I did not realise I had not made myself clear. I apologise,” the doctor rumbles, and Sean feels the vibration of it all through his chest.

There are so many things Sean should say. So many thoughts trying to work their way through his brain, trying to make sense of this new and unexpected information.

They are less important than the warmth spreading through Sean’s chest. Now the haze of guilt is lifting he sees he has been foolish. A servant of God he may be, but Sean is just the same as anyone else. Made to stand with others, not apart. As capable and deserving of love as any other. 

He is allowed this. It is no sin to love, not for him, nor anyone else.

He wishes he could find a way to articulate all that he is feeling, all the thoughts and revelations whirling through his mind. Instead, what comes out is, “Are you sure, doctor?”

Reid cups Sean’s face in his hands. It is hard not to flinch away from those piercing eyes, despite how soft they now seem.

“Call me Jonathan,” he says. “And yes,” his fingers stroke across Sean’s cheeks, somehow reverent, “I am sure.”

**Author's Note:**

> HUGE shout out to [lucymonster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucymonster/pseuds/lucymonster) for beta reading this for me, despite not having played the game. A true hero.


End file.
